Shadow's Fire Book I
by bonne-noir
Summary: Rusty is stuck in a miserable home. He would do anything to escape his life, even run away to the forest. Unfortunately for him, the warmhearted warriors of ThunderClan aren't the first cats to find him. AU of Into the Wild.
1. Allegiances & Prologue

**A/N: Thank you for choosing to read my story! This is dedicated to Yalith's wolf, who has an awesome fanfic about Firepaw joining RiverClan. Go read it and shower her with reviews! :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors.**

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**ShadowClan**

**Leader:** Brokenstar - _long-haired dark brown tabby  
_Apprentices: Volepaw, Mosspaw

**Deputy:** Blackfoot - _large white tom with huge jet-black paws, formerly a rogue  
_Apprentices: Russetpaw, Robinpaw

**Medicine Cats:** Yellowfang - _dark gray she-cat with a broad, flattened face_

Runningnose - _small gray-and-white tom_

**Senior Warriors:** Stumpytail - _brown tabby tom  
_Apprentice: Brownpaw

Nightpelt - _black tom  
_Apprentice: Whitepaw

**Warriors:** Darkflower - _black she-cat  
_Apprentice: Emberpaw

Boulder - _silver tabby tom  
_Apprentices: Wetpaw, Molepaw

Clawface - _battle-scarred brown tom  
_Apprentice: Littlepaw

**Apprentices:** Brownpaw - _brown tabby tom_

Wetpaw - _gray tabby tom_

Littlepaw - _small brown tabby tom_

Whitepaw - _black tom with white chest and paws_

Emberpaw* - _small tortoiseshell she-cat_

Molepaw* - _pale brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes_

Robinpaw* - _pale brown tabby she-cat with green eyes_

Russetpaw - _dark ginger she-cat_

Volepaw - _gray-brown tabby tom_

Mosspaw - _gray tabby tom_

Firepaw - _ginger tom with a flame-colored pelt_

**Queens:** Dawncloud - _small tabby; mother of Nightpelt's kits_

Brightflower - _black-and-white she-cat; mother of Clawface's kits_

Tallpoppy - _long-legged light brown tabby she-cat; pregnant with Blackfoot's kits_

**Kits:** Blossomkit - _white she-cat with green eyes; daughter of Dawncloud and Nightpelt_

Oak-kit - _small brown tom; son of Brightflower and Clawface_

Bark-kit* - _dark brown tabby tom; son of Brightflower and Clawface_

**Elders:** Ashfur - _thin dark gray tom_

Cinderfur - _thin gray tom_

Mudclaw - _dark brown tabby tom_

**ThunderClan**

**Leader:** Bluestar - _blue-gray she-cat, tinged with silver around her muzzle_

**Deputy:** Redtail - _small tortoiseshell tom with a distinctive ginger tail  
_Apprentice: Dustpaw

**Medicine Cat:** Spottedleaf - _beautiful dark tortoiseshell she-cat with a distinctive dappled coat_

**Senior Warriors:** Lionheart - _magnificent golden tabby tom with thick fur like a lion's mane  
_Apprentice: Graypaw

Tigerclaw - _big dark brown tabby tom with unusually long front claws  
_Apprentice: Ravenpaw

Whitestorm - _big white tom  
_Apprentice: Sandpaw

**Warriors:** Darkstripe - _sleek black-and-gray tabby tom_

Longtail - _pale tabby tom with dark black stripes_

Runningwind - _swift tabby tom_

Willowpelt - _very pale gray she-cat with unusual blue eyes_

Mousefur - _small dusky brown she-cat_

**Apprentices:** Dustpaw - _dark brown tabby tom_

Graypaw - _long-haired solid gray tom_

Ravenpaw - _small, skinny black tom with a tiny white dash on his chest, and white-tipped tail_

Sandpaw - _pale ginger she-cat_

**Queens:** Frostfur - _beautiful white coat and blue eyes; mother of Runningwind's kits; pregnant with a second litter_

Brindleface - _pretty tabby; pregnant with Whitestorm's kits_

Goldenflower - _pale ginger coat; unknown mate_

Speckletail - _pale tabby, and the oldest nursery queen_

**Kits:** Cinderkit - _dark gray she-cat with blue eyes; daughter of Frostfur and Runningwind_

Brackenkit - _golden-brown tabby tom; son of Frostfur and Runningwind_

Swiftkit - _black-and-white tom; son of Goldenflower_

Snowkit – _white tom with blue eyes; son of Speckletail_

(Ashkit) - _pale gray (with darker flecks) tom, dark blue eyes; son of Brindleface and Whitestorm_

(Fernkit) - _pale gray (with darker flecks) she-cat, pale green eyes; daughter of Brindleface and Whitestorm_

(Nettlekit)* - _small white she-cat with blue eyes; daughter of Brindleface and Whitestorm_

(Kestrelkit)* - _gray-brown tabby tom; son of Brindleface and Whitestorm_

**Elders:** Halftail - _big dark brown tabby tom with part of his tail missing_

Smallear - _gray tom with very small ears; the oldest tom in ThunderClan_

Patchpelt - _small black-and-white tom_

One-eye - _pale gray she-cat, the oldest she-cat in ThunderClan; virtually blind and deaf_

Dappletail - _once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with a lovely dappled coat_

Rosetail - _pale ginger she-cat with a pinkish tail_

**WindClan**

**Leader:** Tallstar - _black-and-white tom with a very long tail_

**Deputy:** Deadfoot - _black tom with a twisted paw_

**Medicine Cat:** Barkface - _short-tailed brown tom_

**RiverClan**

**Leader:** Crookedstar - _huge light-colored tabby with a twisted jaw_

**Deputy:** Oakheart - _reddish-brown tabby tom_

**Medicine Cat:** Mudfur - _long-haired light brown tom_

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**Prologue**

The chill of nighttime filled the air as five cats padded through the moorland. The ground was bitterly cold on their paws as they padded along, and the wind sent a tremor through their pelts. Above them, the half moon shone, a starry background accentuating its glow.

Soon the rough gravel of the moorland began to give way to solid stone. Each member of the small group felt a rush of warmth and excitement as they padded forward to meet the tall caves before them.

"After you," a brown tom meowed as he stood before the entrance. Another tom nodded gratefully and began to step forward.

"Wait!" A she-cat's raspy meow interrupted the two. "Before we enter, I have a ceremony to perform." With her tail, she beckoned to the youngest cat, a small tom. The other cats nodded in understanding and made themselves comfortable on the stone ground.

The tom stood up tall, moonlight reflecting on his gray-and-white pelt, as the she-cat continued. "I, Yellowfang of ShadowClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the way of a medicine cat, and with your help, he will serve his Clan for many moons." Yellowfang sent a silent prayer to StarClan to ask for forgiveness for her empty words. She knew that her apprentice was nowhere near ready to become a medicine cat, but she also knew that her Clan needed one now more than ever. With their current leader, she didn't know how much longer she could carry that responsibility.

A small cough interrupted her thoughts. She jumped to see the four cats staring at her expectantly. Realizing her mistake, she continued gruffly. "Runningpaw, do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to stand apart from rivalry between Clan and Clan, and protect all cats equally, even at the cost of your own life?"

Runningpaw quivered with excitement. When he collected himself enough to speak, his meow came out like the squeal of a kit. "I do."

_You mousebrain, Yellowfang! This scrap of fur can't even cure himself, let alone his Clan!_ ShadowClan's medicine cat scolded herself. But she took a deep breath and meowed, "Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your true medicine cat name. Runningpaw, from this moment on, you shall be known as Runningnose. You have proved to be a true medicine cat by your tireless effort and determination." _Lies! But that's nothing new to you, Yellowfang._

The newly named medicine cat beamed, his eyes glowing with the intensity of the half moon. He leaned forward to touch his mentor's nose. Yellowfang focused all her effort on not flinching away from its disgusting moisture.

"Runningnose! Runningnose!" the other medicine cats chanted, their meows echoing slightly through the cave before them. As their calls fell away, they stood up and the five cats padded through the entrance.

The darkness consumed Yellowfang as she pushed her way through the tunnels. On either side, the walls enclosed her. She could hardly smell the cats around her through the murky air and she couldn't see more than a rabbit-length ahead. No matter how many times she had been through the cave, it still made her pelt bristle.

Finally, she sighted a faint light ahead of her and began to spot the outlines of the other medicine cats. As the light grew brighter, she stepped out into the large cavern and stared at the glowing stone in the center. One by one, the cats lay down beside the Moonstone. Yellowfang followed suit, finding a place beside the ThunderClan she-cat and reaching out to touch the stone's smooth surface.

The dimly lit cave suddenly disappeared. The gray she-cat felt a rushing sensation as she was thrust into the pine forests of her territory. The cold air of the night left her as she felt the bright sun warm her fur. She flexed her claws in the familiar padding of pine needles and awaited the familiar black pelt and scent of herbs…but it didn't come.

"Pineclaw!" She called for her former mentor with a crackling meow. When she still received no response, she clawed the ground angrily. _He of all cats should know that I'm getting too old to drag myself up here every moon. He could at least make it worth my while to-_

Her thoughts were cut off by a dark cloud covering the sun. Squinting into the fading light, she watched as it completely cut off the light and the forest was plunged into darkness. Yellowfang's fur stood on end. She had never seen a cloud completely block out the sun before. How could that happen? What could it mean?

A strong wind sent a chill through her body, and also carried a familiar scent. As it blew and whistled, a deep meow echoed, "A dark shadow will fall over the forest, and only fire's light can guide the way."

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**A/N: Ugh, I hate prophecies. I hope this one wasn't **_**too**_** crappy.**

**In the allegiances, I did my best to include cats mentioned in SotC and all those cats who randomly appear in the allegiances throughout the canon series. I had to include some OCs for cats who are mentioned but never named, and also to flesh out the Clans.**

**Asterisks = my cats  
Parentheses = cats born during book**

**Thanks again for reading!**

**EDITED – 10/18/09**


	2. Chapter One

Rusty's ears pricked at the sound of dry food being poured into a dish. Blinking his eyes into the unnatural light of the twoleg nest, he slowly took in his surroundings. Right, he had fallen asleep on a kitchen chair. Below him was the unnaturally soft cushioning of the seat, and close above him was the wooden table. Though it reeked with the scent of twoleg, it still held a natural scent of wood that Rusty cherished.

Soon, a new scent filled the tom's nose. He readjusted himself to watch as the twoleg walked away from the bowl, food in hand. The bitter tang of the pellets stung Rusty's nose, but his growling stomach quickly reminded him of how long it had been since he had eaten. His stomach hurt him so much that he could eat anything, even those tasteless droppings the twolegs called food.

Warily glancing around, Rusty rose and jumped to the floor, his paws making as little noise as possible as they hit the ground. Carefully, he padded forward on quiet paws. His heart was in his throat. Just a little farther; the food bowl was hardly a tail-length away. He could almost feel the pellets on his tongue.

"What do you think you're doing?" A rough meow from behind paused his pawsteps. He had been so close! Shrinking away, Rusty watched as his brother, Cole padded up beside him. "Rusty, do we need to go over this again?" he asked. "Who is the oldest?"

Rusty's fur bristled in agitation. "You can't know that!" he meowed. "You were hardly the size of a mouse, and I'm sure your brain was smaller than that pellet!" He flicked his tail in the direction of the food he so desperately wanted to eat.

Cole only hissed in annoyance and spat, "Mom said so, so it must be true!" His fur settled and he continued in a slick voice, "Besides, which one of us is stronger?" Rusty had no response; he knew Cole could tear him to shreds. And with that, the smoky gray tom padded forward and plunged his head into the food bowl.

Rusty flexed his claws angrily as he watched the disgusting spectacle of Cole eating. His stomach rumbled again, sending a sharp pain through his body. That was it! Fur bristling, he whispered in a low hiss, "Back off, Cole."

Cole finished eating in his own good time and turned towards his brother. Noting the tom's battle-ready stance, he snorted. "You really think you can take me, Rusty? Fine then, if you want to get your fur torn off." He dropped into an instinctive crouch, ready to spring at any moment.

Suddenly, the two toms were interrupted by the loud caterwauling of the female twoleg. She shoved a foot in Rusty's face, causing him to flinch in pain. She kicked the same spot again, then bent over and picked up the ginger tom roughly by the scruff. Rusty winced in pain as he was hauled across the room. With her free hand, the twoleg tore the door open and threw Rusty outside. He yowled as he made rough contact with the ground, and the last thing he heard was Cole's laughter before the twoleg slammed the door behind him.

Rusty shakily stood up. Indignantly, he licked his fur flat, letting his tongue rasp gently over the injury his owner has inflicted. Once he was groomed to his satisfaction, he padded through the small garden to the fence guarding it. Though there was soft, spongy grass beneath his paws, the land before him was foreboding woods.

The metal fence clanged as Rusty landed atop it. The wires stuck into the tom's pelt, but he loved sitting there; it was the closest he could get to the outside world, and the farthest he could get from his nest. He allowed his eyes to skip the land before him, and not for the first time he wondered what it was like out there.

His thoughts were interrupted by the roaring sound of a monster as it approached the nest and fell asleep. Its mouth slammed shut as his male twoleg stepped out, then walked towards the house and opened the door. Rusty mentally counted to himself and, as if on cue, he heard the yowl of the second twoleg. Her voice was shrill as it spat the usual twoleg nonsense. Rusty didn't understand much of it, but there were a few words he could pick out, words that she often used on him, as well.

Trying his best to block out the noise coming from the nest, Rusty once more turned his gaze to the forest. A light breeze blew through his ginger fur, carrying with it so many scents just barely familiar to Rusty. As his mind wandered through the scents of trees and plants, one scent in particular caught his interest: _mouse!_

Reminded of his gnawing hunger, the pain in his side was suddenly traded for that in his stomach. Rusty sniffed the air again, allowing the mouse scent to consume his mind. _Imagine how good that would taste, Rusty_, he told himself. _That warm, juicy flesh_ . . . He pictured himself sinking his teeth into the small brown pelt, then closed his eyes and took a moment to savor the sensation.

Opening his eyes again, he turned them back to the forest. _No, I couldn't_, he mentally scolded himself before the spark of thought fully ignited. It was absurd; he couldn't seriously be considering going into the forest. Who knew what he would encounter in there? Then again . . . he turned back to his nest. Though he couldn't see through the door, he knew exactly what awaited him inside: the abusive female, the ignorant male, and Cole.

His green eyes immediately flickered back to the forest. _Surely anything I meet in there can't be worse than that, right?_ But the comforting thoughts were hollow; he could hardly believe them. But still, they had to have some truth to them. If he could survive against Cole, than he could surely manage against whatever he encountered.

The wind came again, once more carrying the luscious prey scent. Rusty closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His mind was made up. Lifting his paws from the cold, smooth metal, he leaped forward.

The ground his paws landed on was much different than what he was used to. No more soft grass of the garden. Instead, Rusty pawed through the coating of dead leaves that had fallen long ago. Rusty figured that he hadn't even been born when they had been attached to trees.

After sending a quick glance back to the twoleg nest, he raised his head and tail proudly and began to pad into the forest. With every step he took, the leaves crunched loudly in his ears.

Scenting the air, his senses flooded with mouse once more, only this time it was much stronger. Rusty's mind flashed back to his vision; the warm flesh on his tongue. He stopped walking, and the crunch of the leaves fell away to silence. Focusing his ears carefully, he picked up another crunching sound. His eyes immediately flashed to the spot, and he thought he caught a flash of brown fur, but it was gone by the time he had blinked.

Scanning the forest some more, his eyes caught another flash of movement. There it was! Between the twining roots of a tree was a small mouse. Hidden within the brambles and fronds, it sat nibbling a seed, completely unaware of the ginger tom.

Rusty carefully lowered into an instinctive crouch. His weight redistributed, and his body fell into a familiar pattern of movements, though Rusty had never hunted before in his short life. A forepaw stretched forward and made contact with the forest floor, but as it landed, the leaves beneath it crunched. The mouse froze in place, eyes glazed over in fear. Panicking, Rusty rushed forward and sprang towards the roots. As he was midair, the mouse dove for the nearest root, and the tom only succeeded in crashing into the tree.

"Ouch," Rusty murmured as he shakily stood up. Regaining some amount of dignity, he settled down in the brambles and began picking out the leaves that were now snarled and entangled in his ginger fur. Some loosened easily, but others were wedged in so well that Rusty needed to bite the fur.

Once he was groomed to his satisfaction, Rusty stood up and stretched his sore muscles. Glancing up at the sky, he noticed that the sun was beginning to sink into the horizon. He knew he should be returning to his nest. There would be consequences for returning any later.

Leaves crackled underfoot as he retraced his pawsteps. All the prey in the area must have been scared off, but Rusty hardly cared anymore. Perhaps once Cole was asleep, warm and comfortable in the twoleg's bed, he could sneak into the kitchen and eat some of the dry food. Thinking back to the luscious scent of the prey, he could hardly consider eating the tasteless pellets, but at least it was food.

His thoughts were interrupted by a rustling behind him. He whipped around in time to catch a flash of ginger fur, but it was gone within a heartbeat. Rusty may have only been a kittypet, but he knewsomething was there! After sending a quick glance back to his nest, he carefully padded up to the bushes. Leaves rustled with every step, and he knew small animals would be scared away, but this was no small animal.

When he reached the bushes, he began to nose through the leaves. On the other side, there was nothing but more forest. He sniffed around the greenery and smelled nothing but the plants. Another heartbeat later, he caught another scent. It was warm, fresh—maybe his own?

Reluctantly, he withdrew his head and turned around, but within the same heartbeat and large ginger mass landed atop him. The cat snarled and sunk its teeth into Rusty's shoulder. Screeching with pain, the tom thrashed around, desperately trying to get his attacker off. Finally, the cat released Rusty on its own accord, and then stood a rabbit-length in front of Rusty.

Breathing deeply and shoulder spewing blood, Rusty stared his attacker down with wide, frightened eyes. It was a she-cat, a bit older than Rusty himself, yet as different as if she were a fox. Her body was thin and lean, her fur matted and wiry, her eyes blazing with hatred.

"What are you doing on our territory, kittypet?" she demanded with a hiss. Her fur puffed out even farther and she dug her razor sharp claws into the dirt.

Rusty was paralyzed with fear, lost for words. This wasn't like any housecat he had ever met. His mind immediately jumped back to the tales he had heard from the neighborhood cats, tales of vicious wildcats who ate kittens for breakfast and sharpened their teeth on their bones. This she-cat was one of them, and she was going to rip Rusty apart! "I-I-"

Not waiting for an answer, the she-cat lunged again. She moved too quickly for Rusty to see, let alone dodge, and in less than a heartbeat she was raking her claws down Rusty's back. He could feel his flesh ripping, his blood spilling, and his heartbeat thundered in his ears. In some distant corner of his mind, he registered the approach of another cat, and a shrill voice calling, "Russetpaw! Stop before you kill him!" but he was too preoccupied to let it fully register.

Suddenly, the weight was lifted off of Rusty and the raking claws no longer scored his flesh. Rusty panted as he tried to stand up to face his savior. Who could it have been? One of the neighborhood cats? Certainly none of them could have taken on such a vicious monster. Well, whoever it was, Rusty would be eternally grateful; the cat had just saved his life.

His heartbeat nearly stopped as his eyes locked on the figure. Before him was the biggest cat he had ever seen. He was all white except for pitch-black feet, and judging by his eyes, his heart was as dark as his paws.

"What did you do that for?" demanded Russetpaw. "I could have taken him if you didn't interfere!" She looked at him long and hard for a moment, then her eyes shown with a spark. "Or is it that you didn't _want _me to kill him? Protecting your own kind?"

"Silence!" The tom snarled and bore his teeth at the she-cat. Even the hotheaded Russetpaw shied away and slammed her eyes shut in fear. Satisfied with her reaction, the tom continued, "You are not to question my motives."

"I'm sorry, Blackfoot," she whimpered, but Blackfoot had paid no notice. He had already left her side and began padding up to Rusty. The tom took a terrified step back, but Blackfoot didn't stop coming until he was nose-to-nose with Rusty. His deep gray eyes bore into Rusty's so long, so hard, that Rusty thought his heart completely stopped. Breaking his gaze, Blackfoot began to circle around Rusty, occasionally sniffing the air or prodding his flank. The whole time, Rusty remained motionless, paralyzed with fear.

"Robinpaw," he beckoned a third cat with his tail. Rusty sent a terrified glance in the she-cat's direction. This must be the cat he heard earlier. Though she was only half his size, he knew that she could shred him in a heartbeat.

Once Robinpaw stood a fox-length in front of Rusty, Blackfoot returned to sit beside Russetpaw. Calmly, he meowed, "Kill him."

"Wh-what?" Robinpaw stuttered. Her green eyes flashed first to Rusty, then back to Blackfoot. "Blackfoot, I can't! He's just a kittypet. He's no threat to ShadowClan. Can't we just let him go?" she pleaded.

Blackfoot would hear none of it. His gaze hardened and he meowed icily, "It's his blood or yours."

Robinpaw's turned back to Rusty and for a moment, two pairs of forest-green eyes remained locked on each other. They reflected each other's fear and pain and, for a heartbeat, Rusty thought he heard her whisper, "I'm sorry."

He only saw a brown flash before Robinpaw's teeth sunk into his flesh. He yowled in agony, and then slammed his shoulder hard against the ground. Robinpaw winced in pain and seemed to be stunned. Rusty took the opportunity to land a blow of his own. Sinking his teeth into her shoulder, warm blood flooded her mouth and the she-cat cried out.

As Rusty was distracted by success, Robinpaw flipped Rusty over and raked her hind claws down Rusty's exposed stomach. The razor sharp claws tore deep into his skin, but luckily not deep enough to damage his vitals. Rusty tried to throw the smaller cat off of him, but he was too weak to muster the strength. Ignoring the blinding pain, he thought desperately of how to save his life. The claws wouldn't stop, and every breath Rusty took hurt more and more. He couldn't hold on much longer. He felt his life seeping away, the light of the evening sun fading…

Then he went limp.

Robinpaw slowly stood up and stared down in amazement. "I killed him," she breathed. "I killed him . . . Blackfoot, I-"

The moment she was distracted, Rusty sprang up and lunged at her shoulder. She yowled in surprise as Rusty's hind claws raked her side and his teeth sunk into her flesh. Throwing him off, she stood a rabbit-length away, panting heavily and staring in surprise. She lowered herself into a crouch, and Rusty braced himself for another attack.

"That's enough." Both cats turned toward Blackfoot in amazement. His gaze locked on Rusty's tattered, bloody form for a heartbeat, then turned deeper into the forest. Beckoning with his tail, he meowed, "Come Robinpaw, Russetpaw, we're leaving.

Russetpaw's eyes grew wide in shock. "But Blackfoot-"

"I said we're leaving."

And with that, the three wildcats left, leaving Rusty with nothing to do but return to his twolegs, a bloody wounded heap, and face the consequences.

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**A/N: Well, there's chapter one! Thanks for anyone who's still reading, and sorry it took so long to post this. Kittypet scenes are so _boring_ . Any ideas on how to spice that up would be greatly appreciated. Also, for future chapters, does anyone know what ShadowClan's camp in the forest looks like?**

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! :D**


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N: Aha, she finally updates! Sorry so late.**

**Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed so far, as well as those of you who will in the future ;)**

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The next morning arrived like any other. The first rays of sunlight found Rusty curled up in whatever nest he had found for the night. This morning, he happened to be tucked in a box once used for some housefolk object or another. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the housefolk nest was filled with sunlight. Rusty slowly opened his groggy eyes, blinking against his gently glowing pelt. Then, just like any other morning, he rose to stretch his muscles.

"_Yeeow_!" Rusty's face contorted in pain as he sunk back to the ground. His flank was burning as if it had just been singed by the housefolks' artificial fire. Mind still numbed by sleep, he twisted himself to examine his leg.

The blood-matted wound suddenly brought back the previous days' escapades. As his mind flashed through the battle, he could almost feel the claws tearing through his flesh, his heart pounding and his lungs burning.

Slowly, careful not to let his flank brush against the walls of the box, he stood again. With some effort he managed to shift his weight to his other paws and make his way onto the kitchen floor. There, he awkwardly stretched his flank out, settling the rest of his body around it. His spine contorted, causing a particularly long gash to sting, but he pushed the lesser pain out of his mind. Bending just a bit more, he began to gently lick his wounded flank. _Maybe if I clean it up enough, my housefolk won't notice…._ "Yeeow!" He winced in pain again as his tongue scraped over the cut. _Or maybe not_.

"Well, if it isn't the brave hunter, back from his _perilous_ adventure."

Rusty stopped licking, but didn't dare turn to face Cole and risk another surge of pain. _If he really wants to face me, he can use his own four paws and walk_!

As Cole drew closer, he recoiled from the pungent scent of dried blood. Already condescending face contorted with disgust, he meowed, "What happened to you? Did a squirrel get you or something?"

"Back off, Cole," he meowed through gritted teeth.

"Oh, do tell." Cole's face twisted once more, this time mirroring his sick amusement. "I'd love to hear about how my little brother has managed to completely fail once again. In fact-" His ears flicked in the direction of the bedroom. The housefolks were beginning to rustle and mutter to each other as they awoke. "-why don't you go explain it to them? I'm sure they'd love to be reminded of how fortunate they are to have taken you home."

Rusty had blocked out Cole's words, but he didn't need them for his eyes to grow wide with fear. He scrabbled to his feet, silently wincing, and did his best to twist his leg into its normal position. _I can't let them see me_! I thought desperately as he half limped half slithered to the door. Thankfully, the screen had not been closed the night before, and he was able to force it open with his forepaw.

Just as his paws felt the grass of the garden, he could hear the housefolks' door and the creak of footsteps. But he still didn't stop. Hissing with pain, he made his way to the fence. There he sat, staring up at the metal wiring, knowing there was only one way to get out.

With one pained leap, he made it to the top of the fence. He claws scrabbled to grab a hold, but with no success. The momentum of his jump sent him flying over the other side, scraping his injured leg against the metal in the process.

Rusty landed in a twisted heap just outside the garden. His flank burned like fire. The smell of blood reached his nose as his leg registered the spreading warmth. Straightening himself out, he just managed to drag himself under a nearby bush and out of the housefolks' sight.

Rusty collapsed, breathless and blinded by pain. He lay down around the low branches of the bushes and allowed his breath to come out in ragged gasps. He didn't even bother to lick his wound, he just lay there, grateful for the safety he had found.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard the scratch of the screen door again. His ears perked up, immediately alert, but the footsteps were too silent for the housefolks.

"Cole," he hissed as his brother's face appeared on the other side of the fence. "What do you want?"

"I'm just looking for my story." Cole smirked through the wiring. "My brother goes out into the forest and I don't even get to hear about it? Come on, amuse me."

Rusty's eyes bore into his brother like thorns. _He's not even worth your breath, Rusty_, he told himself to keep from striking him. Taking a deep breath, he turned away from the gray tom and began to lick the fresh blood from his flank.

He heard a small gasp behind him. When Cole spoke, his normal condescending tone was replaced by awe. "What happened to you?"

When the wound was clean, Rusty finally spoke. "It was a wildcat," he meowed quietly. "Three of them. They were humongous; you wouldn't believe it. Their fur was matted with dirt and you could see their ribs sticking out underneath it. Their claws were sharp as thorns and-"

Rusty grew silent and both cats flickered their ears toward the forest. They could hear low voices in the trees. As they grew closer, Rusty began to make out their words.

"…are we here? No prey would get this close to the twolegs. They seem to be smarter than us-"

The tom's voice was suddenly cut off and another spoke. "Rusty, we know you're there. We can smell your fear."

Rusty's entire body froze as his heartbeat echoed in his ears. _Blackfoot!_ _How does he know my name? Why is he back?_

"Who is that?" Cole whispered in Rusty's ears, but the ginger tom shot his brother a look that clearly said, "Quiet! They can hear you!"

Rusty tried to swallow, but his mouth had suddenly gone dry. He knew he would have to face Blackfoot one way or another, either on the wildcat's terms or his own. Setting his jaw, he stood up.

"Rusty!" Cole hissed, but the ginger tom ignored him and left of the bush. His mind was so set that he barely registered the pain in his leg or Cole's incessant calling of, "Rusty, don't do it! You'll be killed! Come back here!"

"Ah, so the brave kittypet arrives," Blackfoot meowed with satisfaction as Rusty made his way into the clearing. The housecat stood to face the two toms, sizing them up. Blackfoot's gray eyes were as cold as the last time they had met, and the rippling muscles beneath his ragged pelt just as menacing.

The tom beside him looked to be his complete opposite. He was small and scrawny, almost the size of the she-cats he had met. His gray fur, just as ragged as Blackfoot's, was dull like a worn stone. But despite his skin-and-bones build, Rusty knew the tom could tear him apart.

"What is this, Blackfoot?" the gray tabby demanded.

"This is Rusty. Rusty, Boulder." He nodded to each cat in introduction. "He is a kittypet, as I assume you can see." He paused a moment to allow Boulder's fur to bristle in indignation. "But he is an interesting one. He managed to get the best of an apprentice this past sunrise."

Rusty still had not taken his eyes off of Boulder during Blackfoot's speech. The white tom, for whatever reason, did not seem intent on attacking him. Boulder, however, stood with his claws unsheathed and muscles flexed. Turning away from Rusty for the first time, he meowed, "I'm not a kit, Blackfoot, nor do I care what they call this piece of filth. What I want to know is why you brought me here and why you're not tearing this scrap to shreds for wandering in our territory."

"So hasty to attack," Blackfoot meowed smugly. "But that must be in your heritage, I shouldn't blame you."

Boulder lurched forward, as if he were about to attack Blackfoot but thought the better of it. For a moment, Rusty's mind flashed, _He's distracted. You could attack him now and catch him off guard_. But he immediately shook the thought from his head. What was he thinking? He could hardly fight off the young she-cats, let alone this full-grown monster.

Brushing off Boulder's anger—or perhaps just secretly enjoying it—Blackfoot continued on. "But that is exactly why I asked you in particular to come here." With a flick of his tail, he redirected Boulder's attention to Rusty. Subconsciously, the housecat took a step back under Boulder's harsh gaze.

"I don't fight on your command," Boulder growled.

"All right then," Blackfoot replied. "Don't obey your deputy. It's not like you have a shred of Clan blood in you, so why should I expect you to have a shred of loyalty to it. Unless…" His mouth spread into a smug grin. "You see it fitting that Brokenstar should learn a bit more about his oh-so-loyal warrior."

A look of defeat flashed across Boulder's face, but was gone in an instant as to not give the other tom the satisfaction. Resentingly, and taking his own time to do it, he circled Rusty. The housecat braced himself, determined to be ready for the attack.

Boulder leapt into the air, eyes locked on Rusty's throat—a quick deathblow. In a split second, Rusty figured out where the tom had been aiming and swerved to avoid it. His injured leg twisted awkwardly, but the adrenaline coursing through his body seemed to numb the pain.

Boulder landed just to the left of the ginger tom. He came down gracefully on his paws and in an instant whipped around and slashed his claws across Rusty's muzzle. Rusty recoiled from the sting and the blood welling up in his nose, but set his jaw and stood his ground.

Boulder stood back and stared his opponent down, surprise clear on his face. _He didn't think a housecat could put up a fight, huh_? Rusty thought with satisfaction.

Not waiting for Rusty to prepare, Boulder launched another attack. Rusty quickly gathered himself, ready to dodge Boulder's clear target of his throat. But as he was twisting, Boulder changed course midair and instead slammed squarely into his shoulder. Yelping in surprised, Rusty thrashed like a helpless kit as he was pinned to the ground. Fangs sunk into his shoulder and claws simultaneously ripped both of his flanks. He tried to push up, but the weight of the seemingly-thin tom was too much for his tired muscles.

Determined to deliver a blow of his own, he sunk his teeth into Boulder's shoulder. The tom hissed, surprised more than injured. He released his own jaws to look Rusty in the eyes. His gaze burned more intensely than any wound he had inflicted. _He's going to kill me_! Rusty thought desperately. He closed his eyes, feeling the wind of Boulder's head as he dove for his neck.

"Stop!"

Rusty could hear Boulder's teeth clench mere hair widths away for his ear. Slowly, the tom lifted his head, then his entire body, and stood beside Rusty. Blackfoot made his way over and loomed over the housecat.

"Can you stand up?" he asked. As an answer, Rusty slowly rose. The pain of his wounds began to come back to him along with the new ones Boulder had inflicted, but he was determined not to show his weakness to the cat that had saved his life twice now.

"That was quite impressive," he meowed levelly. "A typical housecat would have been crowfood in a heartbeat. But you're not a typical housecat, are you Rusty?" Dozens of responses flooded through Rusty's brain, _What do you want with me?_ _Who are you? Why are you here?_ But none of them became words. Not caring for a verbal answer, Blackfoot posed another question. "How would you like to join ShadowClan?"

Rusty's eyes grew wide in amazement. Had he just heard Blackfoot right? He had no idea what this 'ShadowClan' was, but even he could realize that Blackfoot had just offered him a chance to live in the forest permanently.

Desperately, he looked between the faces of the two wildcats. "I don't think that was a question, _Rusty_," Boulder meowed. "Or at least not the one you're thinking of. I think it was a bit more like, 'Would you rather be in our Clan or buried in the dirt below it?"

Rusty gulped. Tearing his eyes away from the two cats, he turned back to his nest. Cole had disappeared, back to the life of comfort and luxury that Rusty knew he would never have. _Maybe the forest will be a better place for me._

"All right," Rusty meowed when he finally found his voice again.

"Just one more thing." With a quick flash of his teeth, Blackfoot dove for Rusty's neck. _Is he going to kill me anyway_? Rusty's brain screamed as he sealed his eyes shut. For a moment, he felt a sharp pain in his neck, constricting his airways. As soon as it had come, it was gone. Blackfoot stood before him and at his feet was Rusty's collar.

"Good," Blackfoot meowed with no attempt to hide his satisfaction. "Now, follow me."


	4. Chapter Three

Rusty's eyes scanned the twoleg nest one last time before turning into the forest for good. By the time his gaze landed on the trees, the two wildcats were gone, mere white and silver tails disappearing into the underbrush. Rusty filled with panic at the thought of being left behind. Scrabbling to his feet, he bunched up his haunches and sprung as far as he could into the forest.

As his paws thudded against the leaf-matted ground, his eyes remained locked on the wildcats far ahead. He never lost sight of them, but no matter how fast his paws worked, they never seemed to get closer.

Soon, the flooring of dry leaves gave way to the prickly-yet-spongy feel of golden pine needles. His paw pads stung as they prodded him, but he was determined to catch up to Blackfoot and Boulder.

Finally, just as his lungs felt as if they were going to collapse, he began to make out their lean forms. He slowed down just a bit as he closed in on them. His triumph faded when he was within several fox-lengths of them. They had stopped.

Rusty slid to a halt, ears flattened in embarrassment. _Did they really have to stop and wait for me? _It was then that his eyes looked past the two cats. Directly behind them was a stream, heavy and gurgling with mud. The sight beyond that almost made the ginger tom crawl back into his nest. The land was completely barren, only an occasional scraggly tree here or there, and the ground was a foreboding marshland.

With a flick of his tail, Blackfoot leapt over the stream, paws landing gracefully on the other side. Boulder followed close behind.

Rusty took one look at the rushing stream and stepped back. The most water he had ever faced were the puddles in the twoleg garden, and this was no puddle.

"B-Blackfoot," he stuttered, "I don't think I can make it across."

Both wildcats stared him down for what seemed like the longest time, but it was finally Boulder who spoke. "Blackfoot, he's no use to you if he drowns. As much as I'd love to see that, we should probably bring him to the stepping stones."

"No." Blackfoot's voice was firm. "He's crossing here."

Gulping, Rusty scanned the water once more. It was so thick with mud that he didn't even know where the bottom was. He quickly sized up both banks. It seemed like where the wildcats had jumped was the shortest distance; his best shot.

He took a few more steps back from the water, then threw himself forward. His paws fumbled at the edge of bank, turning his launch into more of a flop. For a moment, he was suspended in air above the water, but then his weight pulled him down into the stream.

His entire underbelly stung as it hit the water. The mud seemed to drag him in like invisible paws, and within heartbeats his airways were filling with water. His paws beat furiously in every direction, but still he couldn't find the surface.

With one mighty heave, he broke into the air. He let out his held breath with one pained screech. Green eyes flashed to the wildcats. Boulder lurched forward as if trying to dive in, but Blackfoot stepped in front of him. "No, he must get out himself."

Rusty's mind was screaming so loudly that he couldn't even make out the words. All he could register was to keep his paws kicking as fast as he could. His head bobbed in and out of the water, mouth and nose filling each time. With each break to the surface, he drew in as much air as possible.

Just as his mind started to fade into the murky depths of the stream, his claws found solid land. Sharp teeth dug into his paws, but he didn't seem to feel the pain. All he noticed were the grass and pebbles tugging at his fur and the feeling of dirt between his claws.

As he flopped down on the ground and heaved in the sweet air, he heard Boulder meow, "You really think this…thing will survive a sunrise out here?"

And the response, "It's no great loss to us if he doesn't."

Black paws prodded Rusty's side once his breathing calmed down. "Get up," Blackfoot meowed.

Rusty's legs seemed like water beneath him. He pushed himself up, then fell to one side and the other before getting himself straight. "Clean yourself off."

Without a second thought, he began licking the bitter mud off his fur. Each stroke of his tongue filled his mouth with the taste, but his fur never got any cleaner. Blackfoot added a few licks of his own, so rough that Rusty thought his fur would come off. "Good enough," the tom meowed. "Now come on."

As the cats pushed on, Rusty's nerves settled and his mind calmed. Trying to push out all thoughts of the experience, he found himself focused on his paws. With each step, the marshland sloshed, bubbling with water and adding a new coating of mud to his paws. _Maybe this is why Blackfoot's feet are so dark_, he found himself thinking.

He had become so engrossed in his steps that he crashed into Boulder when he stopped. The tom bared his teeth with a low growl. Blackfoot cut in. "Welcome to ShadowClan's camp, Rusty."

Tearing his gaze from the silver tom, Rusty looked up to find drier ground slopping downwards. It met in a low dip covered in brambles. Off to one side was a large oak tree—larger than Rusty had seen since they left the forest—and a wall of thorns surrounded the underbrush.

Rusty took a whiff of the air and nearly yowled in surprise. He never knew there were so many cats in the whole forest!

"Rusty." He snapped his attention to Blackfoot. "You must go along with everything I say, understand?"

Rusty drew back from his harsh tone. "Yes."

"That means if I tell you that you're a dog, you're going to run around barking like a mousebrain and wagging your tail so much that there is no doubt in anyone's mind that you're a dog."

Rusty cocked his head in confusion and meowed cautiously, "Yes?"

"Good," Blackfoot meowed, "because if anything goes wrong, it's your throat or mine."

"Which means it's going to be your throat," Boulder added.

Rusty gulped.

With a nod, Blackfoot meowed, "This way." He padded around the clearing with Boulder at his heals. When they were directly opposite the oak, they ducked down and disappeared into the greenery. Rusty bent down and noticed that there was a small hole in the thorn wall with a well-beaten path leading downwards. With a deep breath, he pushed forward.

When his rose his head again, his eyes grew wide in awe. Before him was an entire clearing sheltered by the brambles and oak. In every corner cats were swarming. Big, small, dark, white; they came in every shape, but they all carried the same putrid scent of Blackfoot and Boulder.

As Rusty examined a large stone across the clearing, he heard a yowl beside him. "What is _that?_"

As if the shriek had been a cue, the eyes of all the cats in the clearing flashed to Rusty. Even more cats emerged from the bushes and into the clearing. One, a dark tabby, came out from underneath the oak and jumped atop the boulder. He curled his tail around his paws neatly and burned his orange gaze into Rusty. Something about those eyes sent a chill through Rusty's spine. He shuddered and turned his head his head away.

"This, Darkflower, is a cat," Blackfoot meowed flatly to the cat who had spoken. "And you are an obstinate young warrior who needs to learn her place in this Clan."

The she-cat—Darkflower—held her head high and set her jaw. Blackfoot took his attention away from her and meowed to Rusty, "Follow me."

He led Rusty in a procession through the center of camp. The former housecat hung his head low, eyes darting from cat to cat as he passed by. _I don't belong here_, he whimpered.

Blackfoot stopped beneath the boulder, and the tom atop it jumped down beside them. With a nod from the tom, the three cats ducked beneath the oak. Rusty hung back for a moment, paws weighing him to the spot like stones. The last thing he wanted to do was enter the dark cave with that tom. Rusty knew he could have his throat torn out without anyone ever knowing. Would they even hear his scream? _Then again_… He turned back to the cats in the clearing. Some had returned to their business, but others were merely sitting with their eyes focused unblinkingly on Rusty. Pushing his fears out of the way, he set his jaw and ducked into the cave.

Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the first things he noticed were those burning orange eyes. When he managed to tear his own eyes away, he found their owner sitting in a bed of pine needles. His paws and tail were tucked comfortably beneath his body, like Rusty once sat in the sunlight of his kitchen. The tom's ease unnerved him.

Blackfoot sitting a few pawsteps away. He was sitting straight with his head bowed slightly. Rusty scrambled to imitate his position.

"What have you brought me?" The dark tom's voice was scratchy, like the sound of cat's claws scraping down a tree.

"He's a rogue from the carrionplace," Blackfoot meowed. The barb and venom that was normally behind his voice was gone. Instead, Rusty heard hesitation, submission…fear? _If _Blackfoot_ is afraid of him_, Rusty wondered, _then what kind of monster is this?_

"There are plenty of rats in that place," the tom continued. Rusty couldn't tell if he was growling, or if that was just his normal voice. "Why did you bring me this one?"

"He held his own against Boulder," Blackfoot meowed without making eye contact.

The tom remained silent for a moment, then meowed, "Is that a credit to this rat or shame to my warrior?" When Blackfoot offered no answer, he meowed, "Very well then."

For the first time, he turned his attention to Rusty. The ginger tom shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "Follow me."

Rusty sent a desperate glance towards Blackfoot. Only that morning he wouldn't have trusted the white tom for a heartbeat, but now, he seemed like his only lifeline. Blackfoot nodded in what he hoped was assurance, and not a condemnation of death. With a deep breath, he padded out of the den.

Rusty squinted when his eyes met sunlight. When he found the tom again, he was already on top of the boulder. His orange eyes cast down a clear message of, "Come up if you value your life." The ginger tom gulped and turned towards the stone.

With his first jump, he tried to grab a hold of the stone's smooth surface, only to slide back to the ground with a screech of his claws. He sized up the rock again and notices another one propped up against it. Jumping onto that and finding a better grip on its ragged surface, he slunk his way up beside the tom.

The ginger tom took that moment to scan the clearing beneath him. Most of the cats had disappeared now, so his green eyes found their way around with more ease. For the first time, he noticed that it really was a camp like Blackfoot had said. Off to one side there was a clump of brambles, and a little while off, a hollowed log and some ferns—dens, Rusty realized. In front of the ferns was a tabby watching a small kit bat around a moss ball. The site of the tiny white cat made the housecat relax. If such a fragile thing could survive there, then maybe there was hope for him yet.

Without warning, the tom beside him let out a deafening shriek that nearly made Rusty jump out of his fur. He had to dig his claws into the groove of the stone to keep himself from tumbling forward. When he looked up again, he found all the cats of before making their way out of the dens and gathering beneath the boulder. Their eyes naturally fell on him once more, but they soon drifted towards the dark tabby.

"ShadowClan!" he called once the cats had settled down, "As you know, we are facing hard times. Prey is scarce and tensions are high. It is now more than ever that we need strong warriors."

Muttering erupted among the gathered cats. Their hushed tones overlapped into a single anxious murmur, but Rusty thought he could pick something out about 'more mouths to feed.'

"_Silence!_" The whispers hushed at the tom's hiss. "Perhaps some of you haven't been to the nursery in some time, but allow me to remind you: there are only three kits. Naturally, their ShadowClan blood makes them strong, but even among the elite, we are lucky if half of the kits born become warriors." Many cats nodded or hung their heads in somber agreement.

"It is for this reason that we have found the need to take outsiders into our Clan. There is no room here for the weak-boned and soft furred, no!" Rusty shivered at the few cheers from some toms below. "Though our blood may not run through their veins, every cat here is the strongest, the best of the best, of any to set paw in this forest. We are not a band of rogues or a gathering of moor rats. We are _ShadowClan!"_

Whatever cat had not spoken up before was making up for it now with a chorus of yowls and cheers. Fur puffed out and claws unsheathed as pride welled in the Clan cats. Overwhelmed by their fervor, Rusty turned to the speaker. His tail was once more curled over his paws, and his fur flat and smooth. Rusty craned his neck to see his eyes, but he could only catch the corner as he stared out motionlessly. The only sign of movement in his dark body was the slightest twitch of his tail tip.

The cats fell into silence naturally. The cat beside Rusty made no motion to stop, but every cat seemed to know they were supposed to. "Firepaw, by setting paw in this Clan, you are vowing to uphold that legacy."

_Firepaw….is that me?_ His suspicions were confirmed when the tom turned to him for the briefest of moments. His ears flattened with the impact of what had just happened. Not only was his home, his family, and everything he had ever known being taken away from him. He was being stripped of his very name.

When the heartbeat was over, the dark tom turned his attention away; disposed of him as if he had no further interest in the ginger tabby. "Blackfoot." For the first time, Rusty noticed the white tom standing in the crowd. A rush of comfort came to him. The mere familiarity of the face was the only thing Rusty—no, Firepaw—had to cling to in this foreign place. "I hope my efforts of training you haven't been wasted. Please take Firepaw and do with him what you will."

As Blackfoot nodded, the tabby jumped down from the boulder as effortlessly as if he were taking a step. When his paws thudded to the ground, the gathered cats fell into a dull chatter and made their ways off in small clumps. The newly named Firepaw was left to fumble down the stone and into the wave of unfamiliar cats. Walls of black, white, gray, and brown walls seemed to entrap him, burying him in an endless maze of fur. In a sort of daze he wandered one way, then the next, not sure of where his own paws were taking them. His mind was screaming that he wanted to go back to his twoleg nest, but his legs seemed to know that it was only a distant memory now. This was his home, and this is where he would stay.

"Firepaw!" He whipped around to find the source of the voice. Immediately snapped out of his daze, he shrieked in terror. Staring him down was the face of his worst nightmare.


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N: Wow, another update? Magical things happen when I'm avoiding mythology homework ;)**

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"Firepaw—Firepaw, calm down!"

The young apprentice's eyes were sealed shut, and his mouth hung wide open in a terrified cry. Only when a sheathed paw prodded his side did the cry fade away. Slowly he opened his eyes to find a pawful of cats staring at him like he had sprouted another tail. His ears laid back in embarrassment and he turned his head away, only to find himself a hair-length away from a pair of green eyes.

The owner of the eyes gave a little leap, then spun around and stood a short distance in front of him. "You silly mousebrain. Mrrow!" Lowering her body, she wriggled her haunches and sprang up to bat at his ears. Firepaw remained motionless, only his eyes following the strange she-cat.

"I'm Robinpaw, don't you remember?" she mewed with a cock of her head.

"Robinpaw?" Firepaw asked slowly. He sized her up, noticing her small brown features and thin limbs. There was a patch of fur missing on her shoulder, revealing a large red scar in her exposed flesh.

Following his gaze, her eyes landed on the spot. Her fidgeting slowed, and when she spoke, the cheerfulness was gone from her voice. "Oh, you do remember…." She stood staring at her shoulder for a moment, but the very next heartbeat she bounced back again. "But don't worry about that, that was a long time ago. Like…a full sunrise! Now you're part of ShadowClan just like me, right? So we can be best friends!"

"Erm…right." Firepaw allowed his muscles to relax. The small tabby showed no signs of aggression in her voice, and Firepaw knew the first thing he needed in this—ShadowClan—was a familiar face to rely on. The promise of a 'friend' was something he couldn't turn down.

Robinpaw giggled and resumed her play crouch. "Yea, Firepaw's my new friend!" She spun midair and landed facing him again. "You know, you really got such a cool name. Firepaw." She stretched his name out as if it were something to be feared. "Can't you just imagine you, the mighty Firestar, ruling every cat in this forest? Seasons and seasons and seasons from now, kits will shudder when the elders say your name!"

Firepaw chuckled. He could tell he was definitely going to like this cat. "I can't exactly see myself ruling the forest," he laughed.

Robinpaw shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. But hey, it's just your first day. With some training, you could be the bestest cat in the forest." With a mrrow of laughter, she threw herself at Firepaw. Batting his face with a sheathed paw, she prodded his stomach with her hind legs and pushed him to the ground. Instead of fighting back like she expected, Firepaw hissed with pain as his flank hit the dirt.

"Great StarClan!" she breathed as she stood up carefully. "Did I—did I do that?" She swallowed with her suddenly dry throat and backed away a bit. Firepaw managed to bring himself to his paws and noticed that her brown fur was puffed out, making her small body look twice its size.

"Come on, you have to see Yellowfang." In a heartbeat, Robinpaw was behind Firepaw and pushing him forward with her head. "This way."

Firepaw had only taken a few steps when Robinpaw bounded ahead of him and dove beneath the boulders at the center of the clearing. The same rush of uncertainty filled him about this cave as the last, but he pushed it aside and relied on his newfound trust in Robinpaw. _She wouldn't hurt me…right?_

The inside of the cave wasn't as dark as the other one. Aside from the light of the entrance, there was also some light filtering from the far wall. Firepaw craned his neck to see that beyond the cave was a patch of ferns lined with moss and pine needles. Sunlight dappled the nests through the fern leaves, and for a moment, Firepaw actually thought that it looked like an inviting place to sleep.

"What do we have here?" Firepaw turned to see a gray-and-white tom emerging from a shadowy corner. The first thing his eyes were drawn to, though, was his crusty pink nose.

"This is Firepaw," Robinpaw chimed in. "He's a new apprentice."

"Really?" The toms voice was nasally and strained, like it took him effort just to get any sound out. "It's nice to meet you, Firepaw." He leaned forward and touched his nose the apprentice's. Firepaw flinched from the cold moisture.

"Firepaw!" He jumped as Robinpaw suddenly appeared behind him. "This is my brother, Runningnose. He knows all about herbs and can make anything better. He's the bestest medicine cat in the whole forest!"

Runningnose shuffled his paws in embarrassment. "Well, I don't know about that…."

"I do." Every cat in the den turned to see a mangy gray she-cat emerging from the shadows. Her fur stuck out at every angle from her body, and her broad, flat face made Firepaw wonder if a she had had a nasty encounter with a twoleg monster. "This lump of fur is a far cry from a medicine cat. He is most definitely not the _bestest_."

Firepaw took a step back as Yellowfang came towards him. The she-cat let out a low rumbling sound that Firepaw hoped was a laugh. "Don't worry, apprentice. Yellowfang isn't going to kill you. You don't even have enough meat on your bones to make a meal. Now, let's see." She began to circle Firepaw, occasionally prodding his flesh or sniffing his fur. The ginger tom remained motionless, but his eyes followed her every move. When she reached his shoulder, she drew her head back and hissed. "Runningnose, get some alder."

"Right," the tom replied. "That's for-" He paused. "-infection, right?"

Yellowfang snorted. "I'm glad to see my teachings actually stuck in your mush of a brain. Now stop blathering and fetch me some leaves."

As Firepaw's eyes followed the gray-and-white tom, a sharp pain exploded in his flank. He screeched and whipped around to see Yellowfang's claws drenched in his blood.

The gray she-cat hissed, "Runningnose, quick, before it stops bleeding." Quickly transferring a poultice to her own paw, she began to run it along Firepaw's flank. It stung like wildfire tearing through his flesh. Firepaw clenched his teeth and slowly sank to the ground.

"Cobwebs, now," he heard her say, and in a heartbeat a rough tongue was rasping over the wound. Just as the pain began to ebb away, something matted and sticky was pressed against his fur. Opening his eyes, he craned his neck to see Yellowfang pawing at a glob of white webs.

"That should do it," the she-cat meowed.

Firepaw's eyes snapped from the wound to the pool of blood beside his leg. His blood. At the sight of it, his heart began to race and the den spun around him. Moaning, he allowed his head to thump back to the ground. "Will I live?"

Runningnose opened his mouth to speak, but Yellowfang cut him off with a solemn meow. "I did the best I could, but I'm afraid-" Her voice was drowned out by Firepaw's cry. Fur standing on end, she howled over him. "Oh would you shut your mouth?" Closing his jaw, he lifted his ginger head just slightly to look into her eyes.

"You rogues," she muttered as she broke the eye contact and padded back to your herb storage. "You think you're the toughest things in the forest, but put a little poultice on your cuts and you go mewling for your mothers. Now, let's see…" She bent down to nose through her piles of herbs. "Ah."

After pawing around with something on the ground, she turned around with a leaf bunched in her mouth. She then came back and sat beside the apprentice, dropping her parcel beside his head. "You'll be just fine."

"Really?" As if his pain had suddenly disappeared, Firepaw jumped up straight, eyes aglow.

Yellowfang's voice choked with laughter. "Yes, you stupid furball. Now." She pushed the leaf towards his mouth. For the first time he notices a pile of black specks in the center of it. "That should help with the pain, and also put you to sleep. It's a bit early to be settling down for the night, but I'm sure you had a trying day. If Blackfoot gives you any grief, tell him he has to deal with me." She stretched her claws. "I may seem old, but there's still some fight left in this only bag of bones."

Firepaw gave a small laugh and turned back the leaf. He stretched his paw, testing the specks with his pad, then bent over to sniff them. He got so close he even inhaled some and sneezed, but he still couldn't pick up any scent aside from the leaf. "What do I do with these?"

"'What do I do with these?'" Yellowfang mocked as her tail lashed in annoyance. "You eat them, mousebrain, unless you'd like me to shove them down your throat for you?"

"Come on, Firepaw." The ginger apprentice jumped as Robinpaw appeared next to him. He had completely forgotten she was even there.

"Do you always do that?" he meowed irritably.

"Do what?"

"Never mind." He sighed, turning back to the seeds. "So, how exactly do you eat these?"

Robinpaw giggled and bounced over to the leaf. Bounce—that was the only way Firepaw could think to describe her manner of walking. "You just bend down like this and lick them up." She mimicked her words with a playful flick of her tail. "Don't worry, they're not icky like most herbs. Just try it."

"Like this?" Mirroring her actions, he bent down and licked up the seeds. Robinpaw was right, he didn't taste anything as he rolled them over his tongue.

"Don't chew," Robinpaw meowed. "They get all stuck in your teeth, and you keep finding them in your mouth for a sunrise!" She scrunched her small face in disgust, causing Firepaw to laugh and nearly choke on the seeds.

"That's good," Runningnose meowed. "You should feel better by sunrise. And you, Robinpaw." His gaze filled with pride as it landed on his sister. "You did a great job. I bet you would make a great medicine cat yourself."

Yellowfang, who had just reappeared from her herb stores, snorted. "That's just what we need, another scrap of fur clogging up my den."

"Don't worry, Yellowfang," Robinpaw replied. "I don't wanna be a medicine cat. I'm gonna be the bestest warrior in the forest!" To prove her point, she dove forward and scooped up a ball of moss in her paws. Growling, she took it in her mouth, simultaneously tearing into it apart with her fangs and hind claws. Then she stood up again, purring with satisfaction as the shreds fell to the ground.

"Apprentices," Yellowfang spat. "They all think they're going to be the finest warriors, but they always seem to end up crazy old badgers like me."

Robinpaw leaned closer to Firepaw and whispered in his ear, "Yellowfang has a wad of thorns up her rear, but you get used to her." Firepaw just barely bit back a laugh.

"I heard that." Yellowfang whipped around. Staring down the brown apprentice, she bared her full set of yellowing teeth. "Get lost, both of you, before I have to claw your fur off!"

With a high-pitched growl, Robinpaw's back was arched and her paws ready to spring into action. "Come on, Firepaw, I'll race ya!" In a heartbeat, she spun around and sped out of the den.

"Wait!" Firepaw called after her as he strained to stand up. "What about my leg?" With a slight limp to his step, he ambled his way through the entrance.

As she watched the apprentices go, Yellowfang's entire body shook with laughter. Her knees began to creek beneath her. Carefully, she sank to the ground as the cackles died away.

"Yellowfang?" Runningnose sat down beside her, tucking his paws beneath his torso. He followed Yellowfang's gaze to Firepaw's ginger form, just barely visible as made his way through camp. The tom's eyes narrowed in concentration. "Do you think he-"

"Yes." Yellowfang's voice was cold, completely devoid of its recent humor. "He is the cat the prophecy spoke of."

* * *

"This is where we'll sleep," Robinpaw meowed as she brushed some ferns aside. With a flick of her tail, she directed Firepaw to the sheltered den within. Just like the last one, it was small and lined with bedding, though there was no moss and the pine needles were beginning to brown at the tips.

"Yeah, not as comfy as some of the others," Robinpaw continued. "But that's why we've gotta train hard! When we get to be warriors, we'll have the best nests in the Clan!" Firepaw shrugged it off and wandered around the bedding. For the first time that day, he began to feel drowsiness wash over him. This place looked plenty soft enough or him.

Finding a cushioned patch, he bent down and pressed his nose to it. Immediately, he drew his head back and hissed. Behind him, Robinpaw whiskers twitched in amusement. "_That_ is Russetpaw's nest. Smells yucky, doesn't it." The tom snorted his agreement. "Come on," she flicked her tail. "Me and my sisters sleep there. You can make your nest with us!"

He followed he over to the farthest corner of the den. There he found three more piles of bedding, with a small space in the corner behind him. "Just get some pine needles here…" she mumbled as she clawed the ground. "…and there you go!" Jumping out of his line of vision, Robinpaw's eyes beamed as she revealed the newly made nest. "And mind is right here, so we can spend lots of time together."

Firepaw purred lightly as he settled down in the nest. He curled his ginger body up tightly, laying his head on his hind flanks. Just as his eyes were flickering shut, he noticed the gash just beneath his chin. Running his eyes along it, he realized that the pain was fading already. With a content flick of his whiskers, his heavy eyelids fell shut.

"Tee-hee."

Firepaw squinted one eye open. "What?" The other followed to meet Robinpaw's own eyes staring back at him.

"Nothing," she half-purred. "You just look funny."

"I look funny?" His voice was suddenly alert with disbelief. Ever since Firepaw had set paw in the forest, everything from the land to the cats had seemed completely foreign to him. It had never occurred to him that he, the housecat, just like any other cat he had ever known, was the strange one. _I really am the outcast here_, he realized.

"Firepaw, are you okay?" He blinked the confusion away and flicked his eyes back to Robinpaw's concerned face. With a start, he racked his mind for a way to cheer her up. Something about Robinpaw being upset just didn't feel right.

"Well, erm…" he began. "You have a strange name."

"Mrrow!" Robinpaw's playfulness was back as she batted his ginger muzzle. "Are you crazy. How about yours. Rusty? What kind of name is that for a cat."

Firepaw laughed along with her as he dove for her side. "A perfectly normal one," he meowed as they tumbled through the bedding, sending pine needles and dirt flying in every direction. "It's you wildcats who have all these weird-sounding names. Robinpaw? Blackfoot? How do you come up with these things?"

Robinpaw dug her claws into the ground, suddenly halting their play fight. Not reacting fast enough, Firepaw slammed to the den floor beside her. "Ow," he muttered.

"Firepaw," she whined. "Don't you know _anything_?"

Rubbing his sore head, he murmured, "Apparently not."

"Come here." She patted the ground with her paw. Not seeing Firepaw so much as flinch, she put more force into her meow. "Come _here_."

With a head-tilt of confusion, Firepaw padded over to the place where Robinpaw was sitting. Flexing her claws, she began to make lines through the golden-brown pine needles. Each stroke would hold for a heartbeat or so, but then the spongy needles would spring back into place. Squint as he might, the tom couldn't figure out what she was showing him.

"All right." She began with a deep breath and continued without taking another. "So, there's a different name for each kind of cat."

"There are different kinds of cats?" Firepaw wondered aloud. Sure, he had seen the stark contrast between the wildcats and the housecats he knew, in everything from their fur to their body shapes. But to him, all these ShadowClan cats looked the same. How could they be different?

"Quiet, mousebrain!" Robinpaw cuffed his ear and hissed. "Like I was saying-" The glare she gave him resolved Firepaw to hold his tongue. "-everybody starts off as a kit and they are called "Something-kit," like Oak-kit and Bark-kit.

She swiped her brown paw across the ground, then began to trace new shapes with her claws. "Then there's apprentices like us. We get the name '-paw' when we start out training. Get it?"

Firepaw stood, dazed. "No."

Robinpaw groaned and destroyed her drawing again. "Well, you'll get it eventually." Giving up on the idea of a visual, she tucked away her paws and continued her explanation facing the new apprentice. "We're training to be warriors. When we're big enough and strong enough, we get any name in the whole wide woods. Like yours could be…" Her urgent face melted into a thoughtful glint of her eye. "Firedeath, because you're all scary and mean." Growling, she sprang forward and batted her paw across Firepaw's muzzle.

"Ow," the tom muttered. "Do you have to keep doing that?"

Robinpaw sat down beside him and ran a paw over her ear. "Maybe Fire_puff_ would be more fitting," she meowed with a flick of her tail.

"Yeah, I guess." The words caught in Firepaw's throat as he spoke them. He just couldn't picture himself as a 'warrior,' as Robinpaw put it. What name would ever fit him, a weak, scrawny tom without any skills to speak of? Shuddering, he began to wonder if he could ever fit into forest life.

"Well anyway, that's the warriors," she continued. "Then there's medicine cats like Runningnose and Yellowfang, and Blackfoot. He's the deputy. He thinks he can just boss everyone around because, well, he can. But that's not the point."

"What about your brother?" asked Firepaw. "And Yellow-whatsit? They're not warriors or destinies, right?"

"First, it's _deputy_, not _destiny_, silly," she meowed matter-of-factly. "And second, they're medicine cats. That means they're special and don't fight or hunt."

Firepaw's ears perked with interest. "You mean they don't fight ever?"

"Nope."

The ginger tom's heart gave a hopeful leap. The scars on his legs proved that he would never be a fighter, and just thinking about sinking his claws into another cat made his fur stand on end. If he became one of these 'medicine cats,' he could stay in the forest without having to be a warrior.

"But you can't be one."

"What?" he screeched, taken by surprise.

"Nope, you have to be special."

"Special how?"

"I-I don't really know. Maybe they're special like Brokenstar."

_Brokenstar_. The name stung like a thousand thorns into his pelt. Body becoming rigid and tense, an image of dark tabby fur and blazing eyes filled his mind.

"Firepaw, are you okay?"

The image suddenly disappeared and was replaced by Robinpaw's slender face. "Yeah," he muttered, still lost in thought. "This 'Brokenstar.' Is he that big tom?"

"Oh, right, you don't know Brokenstar!" Her small body seemed to burst with excitement. She stood up straight, unable to contain herself, and even her fur seemed to course with a new energy. "Brokenstar is the bestest cat in the forest ever! He's the biggest and the strongest and the smartest and keeps us all safe."

Firepaw's pelt coursed with uneasiness. "You mean that-" He paused, searching for the right word, but was unable to find one. "-cat—protects you?"

As Robinpaw opened her mouth to answer, her ears flickered back to a rustling in the entrance. Turning to meet the sound, Firepaw watched as two new cats padded into the den. They looked to be about his own age. The first, a black-and-white tom, was much bigger than Robinpaw. The pale tabby next to him was small, but something about him seemed older than the she-cat, more worn.

"I can't believe we're being assigned to-" The larger tom paused mid-sentences and turned his gaze on Firepaw. He sniffed the air and grimaced. "Have you been rolling in fox dung or something?"

"Whitepaw!" his companion gasped.

"What?" Whitepaw shrugged, "can't you smell it?"

"Yes, but you don't have to say it." Still not getting the response he wanted, the tabby sighed and turned back to Firepaw. "I'm sorry, but you do smell kind of weird," he said with a gentle half-laugh. "You're the new apprentice right?"

"Yeah, I guess," he meowed. "I'm R-Firepaw."

"It's nice to meet you, Firepaw." Closing the space between them, he padded forward and touched his nose to Firepaw's. The ginger tom blinked in surprise. This was the second cat to do this to him. _Is this some kind of Clan thing_? he wondered.

"I'm Littlepaw," the tabby continued. "And that's Whitepaw." Firepaw nodded in introduction and allowed himself to relax. Something about Littlepaw's mellow demeanor was beginning to erase his worries.

"What are you doing here?" Firepaw jumped at Robinpaw's harsh tone. "Should you be like hunting or something?"

"Blackfoot said we could take a rest," Littlepaw replied, just as surprised at her hostility.

"Yeah, because he wants us to go on the dusk patrol!" Whitepaw hissed. He had made his way over to one of the nest and dropped himself down in it. Stretching his long black limbs, his mouth curled into a wide yawn. "If that bossy furball makes me do one more thing, I'm going to claw his fur off."

Robinpaw snorted. "Good luck."

Littlepaw laughed as he sat himself down next to Whitepaw. "He's really been working our paws off lately. Today, Whitepaw came back with three mice, a vole, and a chaffinch, and Blackfoot just put him on another patrol."

"Well someone needs to do it," Robinpaw meowed.

"Yeah, the Clan needs to be taken care of," Littlepaw agreed. "Hey, speaking of that, why are you still here? Blackfoot was looking for more cats to hunt."

Robinpaw opened her jaw to protest, but Firepaw cut in first. "Wait, you mean you all get your own food?"

"Great StarClan," cried Whitepaw, "he's hopeless!"

Jumping to her feet, Robinpaw's tail lashed furiously as she hissed, "Fine, you two furballs can just sit here and make fun of Firepaw. I'm going to go hunt for my Clan. Just watch. I'm gonna be a warrior before both of you!"

Whipping around, she began to stalk out of the den. Firepaw jumped up and ran after her. He had finally found someone he could trust in the Clan. He didn't want to be left without her. "Where are you going? Are you coming back?" he asked desperately.

She paused for a moment, then sighed. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "Don't worry, I'm gonna be back really soon." Without warning, she pressed her body to his, wrapping her tail around his flank. With a quick lick to his ear, her warmth was gone, and she was bounding out of the den.

Dazed, Firepaw meowed, "What was that."

"She-cats," Whitepaw snorted as he buried his head deeper into the pine needles.

As Firepaw stood frozen, Littlepaw came up beside him. "Come on, you look tired. You'll be fine here. All the apprentices are really nice—well, most of them anyway," he added as an afterthought. "Anyway, they shouldn't be back for a while. It'll be nice and quiet in here until moonrise."

Sighing, Firepaw nodded and turned back to his new nest. He padded up to it, made a few final adjustments with his paw, and sat down. As he tucked his ginger head under his tail, Littlepaw called, "Oh, and welcome to ShadowClan. I really hope you like it here."

"Me, too," he replied. The bedding rustled as Littlepaw settled himself down, then the den lapsed into silence. Slowly, Firepaw's ears began to pick up on the low sounds of the evening: the shuffle of paws outside, the rustling of the ferns in the wind, and Whitepaw's growing snores. Allowing his own eyes to close, Firepaw found himself thinking that the nest was actually pretty comfortable. In fact, it was softer and warmer than any place he had ever slept with his housefolk. _Maybe this isn't so bad_, he thought. _Maybe the forest really is meant to be my home_.

* * *

**A/N: Whew, that was long. I'm gonna try to keep all my chapters under 4K words, so I'll probably edit this down eventually.**


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